


We Could Be Epic

by sabriel75



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Clubbing, Friends to Lovers, Love/Hate, M/M, Romance, Sex Club, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/pseuds/sabriel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Uther interferes with Arthur’s first love, but fate brings Merlin back to him. Only, the years have made Merlin cynical and Arthur prideful, not a good combination for rekindling their teenage romance.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	We Could Be Epic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waltzing_mice](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=waltzing_mice).



> A gift for waltzing_mice at [merlin_holidays](http://community.livejournal.com/merlin_holidays/12410.html#cutid1) who had some of the loveliest fics in her memories, ones that I really adored and made me freak out a bit thinking that there was no way I would be able to write something worthy of her interest.

_  
**The love that lasts the longest is the love that is never returned.**   
_

Merlin is not big on dignity.

Or at least not tonight when his emotions are running high and he is at a loss where to go when anywhere, everywhere reminds him of Arthur.

Since the highlights of his evening so far are that he actually knows the music (Lady Gaga’s _Bad Romance_ which he hates) and that it’s actually more entertaining than the blowjob he’s receiving in the dungeons of _Camelot_ (a club he has frequented _a lot_ for the past four years), he’s certain all hope is lost of gaining it.

He likes to think the routine keeps life uncomplicated.

Except it doesn’t.

 _Camelot_ now brings back too many memories of Arthur fucking Pendragon.

His first crush. His first snog. His virginity lost.

Arthur had been his best mate, years before the _reintroduction_ , until Uther fucking Pendragon had made certain his precious son broke Merlin’s sixteen-year-old heart.

Only by some cruel twist of fate, they had met again, here at _Camelot_ , four years ago this very night.

Call it irony.

Call it cynicism.

He’s not certain when such negative thinking became his thing.

Only it has and it’s not like him and it isn’t making life easier to handle.

Honestly, he should have been born jaded; disbelief should have been written on his DNA. When one still believes in destiny and true love, epic shit of that nature; you’d hope that evolution would at least equip a man to deal.

Instead, at birth he had received a big heart, idealistic and capable of carrying not just his effervescent optimism but outshining the majority of the world’s dark spots.

His mother’s sickness. His uncle’s frailty. Uther Pendragon’s disdain.

None of these things had managed to break him. Somewhere along the way, he’s been broken though. His gilded tint of the world smudged with his continual remembrance of a memory: a night four years ago, here at _Camelot_ , where he had allowed everything to change, allowed someone to change him.

 _“Heard about your mother. Sorry I didn’t find out soon enough to come to the funeral.” Merlin hates the sheepish shrug Arthur gives with his apology. It isn’t enough._

 _“She would have liked you to be there.” And she would have, but Merlin is glad he wasn’t. It took all of Merlin’s strength to keep it together in the small gathering of people who had come._

 _“Yeah. Hunith was always good to me.” Too good to him, the bastard, and Merlin tries to tell himself it’s Uther’s fault, not Arthur’s. It doesn’t work this time either, but at least the anger isn’t overwhelming now._

 _“She was. She missed you when you and I… .” Merlin would rather not think about it. He can feel Arthur give him a quick, piercing look before leaning forward on his knees to peer up. His smile flirty._

 _“Yeah? Did you miss me?”_

 _“Christ Arthur! How old was I? Sixteen? I got over it.” Or that’s what Merlin keeps telling himself. He’s good at self denial; makes him an ace journalist._

 _“Yeah. Never thought you’d see me again, did you?”_

 _“Honestly I thought I might. Given my profession and your father owns the largest independent publishing firm in London. Just didn’t think it would be here._

 _“So you’re out then?” Merlin cannot help himself. The bitterness comes through and a bit of sarcastic edge. There’s no fucking way he’s out to daddy Pendragon._

 _“No Merlin, I’m not. Not to my father.”_

 _Merlin isn’t sure how it is possible, how Arthur still in the closet to his father manages to break his heart all over again, but it does. He should have walked away._

 _“So it’s your birthday. Why’re you wasting it here with me? You should dance.”_

 _“You remember my birthday?”_

 _“I remember a lot of things.” And Merlin does and tries not to, but he’s never quite able._

 _“You wound me Merlin.”_

 _“No I don’t. You’re just fine. Now go dance.”_

 _“I think as the birthday boy, I should be allowed to do whatever I like.”_

 _“C’mon Arthur, your friends are going to drag you out there if you don’t go.”_

 _“But I don’t want to dance with them.” And Arthur’s voice sounds just like it did ten years ago and Merlin cannot help himself. It’s his siren song._

 _“Do you ever change?”_

 _“Me? What’s wrong with me?”_

 _“It’s still all about you, isn’t it?_

 _“But it’s my birthday, Merlin!”_

 _“Fine. Do as you like.”_

 _“I will. You wanna dance?” Arthur’s smile is bright and welcoming and the same one he has used before on Merlin, who finds it as irresistible now as he did then._

And Merlin blames the resurrection of that smile: quirked in the corners, tinged with self-deprecation and a hint of affection, all for Merlin. It’s that smile that had made him fall arse-over-head in love with Arthur Pendragon again that night.

And the sick irony of his life is that _Camelot_ ’s the last place he wants to be tonight, four years later, but it’s the only place where he can feel close to Arthur, remember Arthur without possibly revealing to the man that he’s madly in love with him.

 

 _  
**If you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.**   
_

Merlin stops mid-step when he sees Arthur.

He shouldn't be here, not when Merlin reeks of stale sex, sweat and cigarette smoke. Then again, how apropos for the way the night's gone; that the one person he's avoiding shows up on his doorstep.

Arthur is slumped on the stairs of Merlin’s flat. The droop of his shoulders, his bowed head on bended knees, his arms crossed tightly around his legs, tucked up into his chest says dinner with daddy progressed as usual. His childish pose in contradiction to the _very_ adult thoughts Merlin is having seeing him this way.

He’d like to punch somebody, preferably Uther.

Can he not give his son one moment’s reprieve from a lifetime of expectations and disappointed glares?

“Thirty’s bad for everyone.”

Merlin infuses his voice with false cheeriness and jangles his keys in welcome. “You comin’ in?”

“Not for the fucking witch, Morgana,” Arthur says, more for humor than from bitterness, closing the door and following Merlin into the kitchen.

“She give you a hard time?” Merlin asks, putting the kettle on before squeezing Arthur’s shoulder affectionately. “Coffee or tea?”

“Whiskey?”

Merlin laughs softly. “Not tonight. Cutting back on clubbing and late-night binging for my Arthur’s-turning-thirty-resolutions.”

“Ha-Ha. Why my thirtieth? Why not yours?”

Warning signals go off in his brain but timing’s never been Merlin’s forte, and the words are already airborne before he gets the message. “Because Arthur, as usual, it’s always all about you.”

They both balk, but Merlin favors flight and Arthur favors fight. He’ll get his way, but Merlin knows when to call a draw. “Watch the kettle; will you? I need to use the loo.”

“ _Mer_ lin.” He scuttles towards and into the bathroom before Arthur can do anything more than holler down his hallway. “MERLIN!”

And he knows he cannot hide forever, but he needs a moment to think up something, anything to explain how his entire existence has come to revolve around Arthur.

He only gets in the shower when he hears Arthur walk away. The water soothes him and he’s glad of it. It rids him of the remnants of _Camelot_ ’s stench and its dungeon and the activities there. It lets him remember without an audience, even if it’s an audience of one. Arthur will know exactly what memories he dredges up if he’s looking at Merlin. He never could shut himself off if Arthur’s doing the prying.

 _“When I grow up…,” Arthur says in that I’m seventeen and you’re only sixteen so shut-up already tone of voice._

 _“How grown up?”_

 _“Merlin, don’t interrupt.”_

 _“But I wanna know what’s grown up?”_

 _“Thirty, okay.”_

 _“Yeah, sure. That’s old.” Merlin nods affirmatively, trying to imagine what Arthur will look like at thirty and wondering if he’ll grow a beard like he tries doing now._

 _“It’s not old!”_

 _Arthur’s affronted so Merlin budges closer to kiss him on the cheek._

 _“Sure, okay. But doesn’t it seem old, Arthur.”_

 _And Arthur still looks sour but he grabs Merlin hands and entwines their fingers tightly._

 _“Can you just shut-up and let me finish.”_

 _“Yeah, g’on.”_

 _“When I grow up, I’m going to travel the world, meet famous people and run my dad’s company. But he says first I’ve got to prove myself.”_

 _“So then, whadda you have to do?”_

 _“Morgana seems to think I have to get married and have children.”_

 _“Ew!”_

 _“Wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve always known I would.”_

 _“Would what?”_

 _“Get married at thirty.”_

 _“You what?”_

 _“Just always thought thirty would be a good age to get married. I want children. I like them and you do too. Don’t you try to say you don’t.”_

 _Merlin does want children. He likes them, always has. He hates being an only child and has always thought having siblings would be grand even though Arthur says they’re not worth the trouble. Now that Arthur mentions it._

 _“I do,” Merlin thinks aloud. “Just thought I’d never have any though.”_

 _“Why?”_

 _“We’re gay, Arthur. How do we get married and have children?”_

 _“Oh. I figured then I would, y’know want girls.”_

 _Merlin panics and jumps to his feet._

 _“You’re out of your fucking mind, mate. You think you can just turn off liking boys?”_

 _He stares down at Arthur, shocked and confused. Arthur adores him; he knows this. He really does, but he cannot help the fear racing through him. He shakes his head at Arthur._

 _“Did you just hear what you said?!” He hisses, working himself up because Arthur’s just sitting there, calm like the dollophead he is._

 _“Whoa Merlin. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right,” Arthur explains. “I’ll ask Morgana. She’ll know.”_

 _Arthur tugs Merlin down and tickles him until he’s breathless, but Merlin pushes him off._

 _“Yeah, you do that then. You’re not touching me again until you figure this out.”_

 _“Aww… Merlin! That’s not fair,” Arthur whispers in Merlin’s ear, gently biting the lobe of it before lying back down on the grass, shoulder-to-shoulder with Merlin._

 _“You’re the one who’s cheating on me with some girl you haven’t even met,” Merlin huffily protests, but he props his head against Arthur’s._

 _“Maybe we could get married. Reckon anyone would care if two blokes got married and had children? We’d be epic together.”_

 _And just like that, Arthur decides that’s what they’re doing, not caring how much trouble it would be, how much trouble being with Merlin is now. He’ll fight all the laws if it means Merlin and he can be together forever._

 _“You’ll never change; will you?”_

 _“Now what did I say?”_

 _The sulk is there in Arthur’s tone and Merlin laughs. “Something sweet. You just… **.** ” _

_And Merlin doesn’t know how to let Arthur know how he wants this to be forever, so he kisses him and slips him some tongue in hopes that that says it all. It must work, because Arthur pulls him up onto his lap, and Merlin thinks he’ll never feel anything as wonderful as this._

 _“Sometimes I don’t know how Uther and you are even related.”_

 _“Neither do I,” Arthur agrees emphatically._

 _Merlin lets out a small sigh. They’re cheek-to-cheek and he wraps his arms snugly around Arthur’s neck and makes a promise. “Just so you know, Arthur. There’s no one I would rather marry if you’re still available at thirty.”_

 _“Well, I will be considered quite the catch.”_

And didn’t Merlin know it.

He might have had only an inkling of how gorgeous Arthur would grow up to be, how uniquely idealistic and hard-working he would become and yet, with the barest of glimpses of the man at sixteen, he had known he would want Arthur just as much now as he had then.

 

 _  
**The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in.**   
_

Arthur’s standing there when Merlin, a towel knotted around his waist and droplets of water beading at his hairline, opens the bathroom door. The negative shake of his head lets Merlin know a mad dash to the bedroom, as planned in the shower, isn’t likely to produce a win. He resorts to whining and sees the beginnings of Arthur’s smile.

The resolve in his stance doesn’t go away. “Back in the bathroom Merlin and strip.” He tosses clothes to Merlin after his foot is wedged in the door. “No barricading yourself in here or there.”

The bedroom really is a no go.

Arthur averts his eyes, but Merlin sees his gaze travel his entire torso before he folds his arms across his chest, its rise and fall more punctuated than moments ago. “If a minor tussle with me has you breathing so hard, thirty must be old.”

The flicker of recognition that crosses Arthur’s features eases the embarrassment Merlin feels dressing in front of Arthur. Arthur’s being polite but there’s an awareness between them now that’s making Merlin jittery. He jumps when Arthur’s hands tug on his t-shirt caught about his head. “Here. You still cannot dress yourself.”

“You said my style has improved!”

“I’m not talking about your clothing choices,” Arthur retorts laughingly, pulling Merlin’s hoodie over his head and pulling the neckline so that it hangs loose, how Merlin likes it.

“Oh,” Merlin says softly. Arthur’s fingers slide inside the hoodie, adjusting the neck of his t-shirt and out again, brushing over his sides and gripping the t-shirt beneath at its hem and tugging and jostling Merlin out of gravity’s pull.

He giggles because having Arthur this close, fixing his clothing and touching him is weird and lovely and leaving him a little bit ticklish on the inside. As if Arthur’s under his skin, touching him everywhere. Merlin squirms from the warm, jumpy sensations it causes in him. He feels like a little boy, and Arthur’s chuckle of “you’re such a child, Merlin” doesn’t help or his hand soothingly rubbing Merlin’s back _underneath_ his two layers of clothing or the contented sighs Merlin’s making now that he’s noticed.

“Hello, Boy Wonder,” Arthur murmurs, taking advantage of how sexy he makes Merlin’s old nickname sound. “It’s my birthday today and I thought you’d be home sooner.”

Merlin hears the question in the comment and ignores it. “Did you finish making the coffee?”

“Merlin.”

“We’ll talk. Let me get some coffee, you too and we’ll talk. On the couch.”

Merlin knows he’s close to babbling and hurries down the hall. Arthur frowns as he follows.

“Are you going to wish me a happy birthday?” he asks, propping himself against the hall wall and watching Merlin too intently for him to avoid sloshing some of the boiling water onto his hand.

“Here.” Arthur has his hand under the cool water before Merlin registers he’s pressed into the sink, Arthur’s warm body snug all along his back.

“Arthur!” He hates sounding startled and scared, but he is.

It’s Arthur’s thirtieth birthday and that means he has goals to fulfill and familial promises to keep. It means that Merlin after ten years of being without Arthur must make do with the short four years they have had now. He doesn’t want to remember what life was like before Arthur came back to him and he sure as hell doesn’t want a farewell fuck which is what all of tonight is beginning to feel like.

“Don’t Arthur. You don’t have to placate me. I know our fun is over as we know it.”

“Merlin,” and Arthur’s chin nestles on Merlin’s shoulder and he likes that Arthur fits there, that he’s taller now that they’re grown. “You are an idiot.”

“Huh?”

“Do you know how long my father kept you a secret?”

Merlin still isn’t following the conversation, and Arthur gets impatient, flipping him around to face him. “My father, the one, who recently tried bribing you to leave the country with a book deal.”

“Oh yeah. He wants someone to blow the whistle on child castration in impoverished countries and thought it would be a good fit for me. I’d already taken a project in the East End; the foster families’ expose. It’s closer to me, since I dealt with the system after mum and Gaius died.”

Merlin shakes his head, once, twice and then blinks up at Arthur. “What did you say? You and your dad have talked about me?”

“Now you’re catching up,” Arthur says enthusiastically. “I searched for you everywhere back then. _Everywhere._ No wonder you want to write about foster care. It’s impossible to find anyone in it, but you, you go and get yourself nominated for a fucking Pulitzer writing your sodding sob story down. Were you ever going to tell me? Tell us? Gwen and Morgana are pissed at you by the way.”

“So that’s why Uther called me. He found out.” Merlin shrugs. “There’s no conspiracy here. We’ve been friends for four years; my nomination is for this year.”

“Yeah, but you made me a promise about this year that I intend for you to keep and he knows all about it.”

“Uther knows… WHAT?” Merlin screeches. He does and he can’t help it. “Your dad knows you’re gay. Wait. What? Your dad thinks I’m going to marry you because I promised you if you were still single at thirty I would marry you?!”

“No more Merlin. I’m done watching you leave _Camelot_ with other men. Men who look like me I might add.”

“Hypocritical much! I had been going to Camelot long before you showed up and I’m not the only one with a fucking type!"  Merlin tilts his head in victory when Arthur blushes pink. “And you’re not badgering me into marrying you either Arthur. When the hell were you going to tell me you came out to your father?”

“When you showed you had some faith in me and acted like you wanted me around permanently!”

“Unfuckingbelievable!” Merlin seethes, all the anger he has kept locked away and the pain of always being alone bubbles up into his chest and suffocates his heart. He advances on Arthur, wielding his finger like a sword in front of him. “You didn’t deserve a fucking minute of my time and yet I gave it to you. You get all of my attention, my time. There are times I put you before my job!”

Arthur grabs Merlin’s finger, pins his arms to his side and manhandles Merlin into his lap as he gracefully falls onto the couch. There might be a unified oomph, but Merlin recovers quickly and tries to scramble to Arthur’s side. “Let me go, Arthur.”

“No!” Arthur anchors Merlin to him with his arms and thighs. “Listen up. You’re going to stop giving more of yourself than you get back. You’re going to quit putting yourself at risk and taking dangerous jobs, unless you call me and I can make arrangements that will keep you safe. You’re going to come home to me every night, and I will make you healthy meals, not that shit you have in the refrigerator. You will let me take care of you, because I want to and you deserve it after the life you’ve had.

“You’re going to do all of this _and_ never, _never_ be with anyone else but me, for always, because you love me and want us to be together forever. Yeah?”

Merlin traces Arthur's face with his fingers; closes his eyes and lets his memory fill in the blanks without looking. He smiles, feeling Arthur's nervous rustles and ticks throughout his body and pinging off his fingertips.

And Merlin knows he has a writer’s gift of living in flashback. It’s his favorite way to recall memories, to recall Arthur

However, when Arthur tentatively kisses him after that speech, a tirade that should have illuminated every memory to full-wattage, all he can remember thinking before he gives himself over to the moment is:  
 _  
Mine. Mine. Mine. He's mine forever. And we’ll be epic together._

**Author's Note:**

> My muse refused to play nice. It was a struggle for me to get this written. However, many thanks to zafra, planejane, and saphariel for beta reading at various stages of my writing journey with this fest and for holding my hand when it probably would have been tearing my hair out if not for you three. Quotes ~ 1) William Somerset Maugham 2) Mother Theresa and 3) Morrie Schwartz


End file.
